


Shrink

by redpenfics



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpenfics/pseuds/redpenfics
Summary: It's been nearly two years since Richie left the band. Jon decides to visit a good friend of his and talk the pain through...





	Shrink

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just popped into my mind and I gave it a try. Fictional but made out of love. Feel free to comment, feedback very appreciated. Bittersweet but such is life, not a bed of roses, usually a thorn in your side, but so worth the pain. Enjoy:)

“Hi, Bruce. Long time no see! Not that I missed you that much.”

“Hi, Jon. I gather nobody misses their shrink much anyway. Sporting grey hair now?”

“Couldn’t be bothered less.”

“Come on. Fifteen minutes every six weeks? By the way, I have no more appointments this afternoon. You’re getting the VIP treatment today.”

“Couldn’t be more spoiled, man!”

They both laughed. The dark-haired man gestured to the chair. “Fancy a cup of coffee?”

“Thanks, will do. I guess it’s gonna be a longer talk.”

Jon sighed and raked his hand through his grey hair as he was observing Bruce brewing his coffee. Once a cup of the steaming beverage was put in front of him, Jon forced a weak smile.

“Things got pretty crappy these days. I’m barely coping as the shit is piling up. Thought it would be a good idea to visit you and unload on somebody I can trust…”

Bruce met his gaze. “I’m quite familiar with what’s going on, even though I don’t really follow the news that much. All the tabloids have a field day with making up all those theories. I’m really sorry, man.”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows.“It’s getting harder and harder every day. It’s like the whole world is expecting me to explain it to them and I just can’t tell the whole truth, you know?" He rubbed his forehead and clenched his jaws. "Not that I feel I owe them anything anyway. It’s still a very private matter for me, my own heartbreak…” 

Bruce could see the familiar pattern in Jon’s behaviour. His stubborn unwillingness to share and yet, his obvious pain begging to be poured out. He knew it would be a tough conversation.

“It’s not that I want to cry all over and whine about my life. It’s just… my family, my friends, they all have tried to help me and I’m forever grateful. My wife is my rock, my anchor, love her more than ever. It’s just I have the vague feeling nobody can truly help me, I’m trapped in my own suffering. When I made an appointment with you the other day, it’s because I’d been thinking I needed someone from the outside and yet someone who knows me from the inside, too.”

He sighed. Bruce noticed the self-controlling undertone in Jon’s voice, the careful choice of words, the tension in his body and how he was now avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Let’s start from the very beginning, then. Did it all start on the day Richie decided not to show up?”

Jon shook his head. “I have some blurry memories from that day. I guess I was in shock and didn’t really know what I was doing. There was a gig that night and I focused on the performance. The fans wanted the best show and I just couldn’t give them anything less than that.”

Jon waved his right hand angrily. “It was actually me being on autopilot the whole time. After the gig I tried to contact Richie but he wouldn’t answer his phone. He just texted me that he couldn’t do it anymore.” 

Bruce noticed that Jon gritted his teeth and worked the muscles in his jaw. It was obvious he never got over the separation, the anger still dwelling in the man.

“He walked out on me. Of course, there was this fucking tension between us but we’d always solved the problems somehow.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. “So you didn’t anticipate it at all?”

Jon inhaled sharply. “No.”

“But you said there was tension between you. Could that be the reason?”

Jon laughed bitterly. “When you are so close it’s impossible not to have any disagreements. It’s just the common goal that is the band wasn’t the most important thing for Richie anymore. He was more interested in everything else, indulging as he’d always had. I just couldn’t put up with his careless attitude and childish whims because it takes four of us to make it work and it’s lots of work, believe me.”

Bruce scribbled a few words in his notebook.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Of course I did! Many times!” Jon huffed. “The stubborn bastard just wouldn’t listen!”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Oh, the usual stuff. We were about to go on a tour. He was promoting his solo stuff but he agreed to cut it short so we could start earlier.”

“And why were you in such a hurry? Is that something you’d arranged long before?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Well, I thought the beginning of the year was perfect. Besides, I needed money. I really wanted to buy the Bills. The fucking bid was lost in the end, anyway.”

“So you pushed him into it?”

Jon raised his hand in protest. “He agreed to do that! I didn’t put a gun to his head. He could have said ‘no’ but he didn’t. So I announced the dates.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “It was months before the tour started. Did anything happen in the meantime?”

Jon rubbed his chin pensively. “It’s not a secret my daughter overdosed. We actually had a fight over it the other day, with the usual yelling and bitching at each other, but I might have said a little too much. He started it, though! It’s just I didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to the already serious thing. After all, I wanted to keep it as private as possible and show everybody it was under control. Richie, on the other hand, told me that I should have stayed at home and spent time with Steph. I got riled and told him to watch his own daughter and stop playing Steph’s daddy.”

“Was that everything you told him?”

Jon blinked. “I told him I thought it’d be his daughter, not mine. Sometimes I let my mouth act faster than my brain, actually. I know I went overboard but I was just so fucking angry at him at the moment.”

He hung his head and began fidgeting nervously with his fingers. Bruce smiled at him. Jon looked so vulnerable, the obvious guilt gnawing at him.

“Did you ever go back to this conversation?”

Jon shook his head. “Nope. We sort of had this unspoken agreement that this was too much of a touchy subject. He was busy promoting his stuff and I was busy checking on everything. I secretly hoped he’d just understand I didn’t really mean it. But it didn’t make things better, either. You just can’t take your words back, can you?”

Bruce nodded again, his face an emotionless mask. Jon admired this cold professionalism of his friend and trusted his expertise. He suddenly found himself more at ease. He did the right thing.

“Going back to the band. You said Richie wasn’t interested in the band anymore; instead, he focused on himself. Is that because he experienced a lot of emotional problems in his private life or he was dissatisfied with his professional life, maybe the direction the band was taking?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows about his divorce, it was a perfect fodder for tabloids for months! Then, his dad passed away, he had to fight for Ava. Lots of shit… But I was always there for him. Never let him out of my sight. He was even staying at my house for a few weeks…”

He paused. After a few moments he spoke again in a strained voice, those confessions having become a real struggle now.

“He couldn’t… I couldn’t count on him anymore. His divorce with Heather was just a matter of time. Neither of them were faithful. Hell, I wasn’t a saint myself. It’s just how it works in showbiz, you can’t escape all the traps, you fall into some of them. A man is weak, you know?”

Bruce was still looking at him. There wasn’t a word of judgement, good or bad. Jon felt sweat on his brow.

“What do you want me to say? I never kept Rich in a cage. We’re just not kids anymore. We need to evolve. How long can you write about heartbreaks and bad medicine? So much is happening outside. 9/11, presidents come and go. It’s not that I turned Bon Jovi into some fucking political agenda or a tool for endorsing particular politicians. Hell, no! Our songs are about keeping the faith, about holding on to hope.”

Bruce rested his chin on his hand. “Do you still enjoy your dream?” 

Jon blinked. “My dream? What do you mean? My band?”

“See? You’re not even sure what your dream is now. You said you really wanted to buy that football team. Don’t you think you pushed those guys to the limit? I remember one of our last meetings. You told me how you nearly broke up in the early nineties because of that unbelievably hectic pace of constant touring and recording. You said you regretted it afterwards.”

“Come on, it’s not the same! It was done within one year. We aren’t touring for 18 months anymore.” 

“He had just released his solo album.”

“Stop making excuses for him! He’d been barely contributing to the new material. He certainly wasn’t overworked. And that shit talk about having no freedom in the band. Fuck that! He didn’t want to work on the songs in the first place. I had to ask John or Billy to help me out and it wasn’t the case only with the last album. Richie was unavailable for so many times I couldn’t trust him anymore. And you know what? I wanted to help him but he was losing it even more. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want the fucking help!”

“How did you want to help him?” Bruce asked calmly.

Jon realized he’d raised his voice and felt his cheeks burning a little.

“I’m sorry for lashing out at you. I didn’t mean it. It’s just because I wanted to help him. It’s not only about the fucking football team… but I’m allowed to have some other dreams, aren’t I?”

He took a deep breath. “I know you’re going to tell me he had the right to have his own dreams and the priorities set differently than mine. It’s just it’s worked so far. I’d take him to the studio and work on the songs. I’d take him on the road and make him shine on the stage. It’s just he’d lost it too many times and I needed to make sure the shows were going smoothly. You can’t blame me, Bon Jovi is far too big to mess with it. We’re not playing bars anymore, so many people are relying on us. I was covering his sorry ass for too long…”

‘Did he always have the drinking problem?”

Jon gave him a meaningful look. “Rich always had his drink on him but he somehow had it under control. It’s not that he was drunk at work… well, a few beers never hurt, right? It’s just got worse when all that shit in his life started to pile up. That MTV Unplugged show was the last straw. Sure, he went to rehab then. And then again. Something changed, though.”

“What changed?”

“He became more and more indifferent. No matter how much I wanted to have him involved. There were too many ill-willed people around him, and worse still, his yet another girlfriends poisoning his mind against me and the band. Everything was more important than the band. That stupid blonde dressmaker with big tits and then Charlie Sheen’s ex, a little attention seeking whore, both were dragging him around so he was the tabloid favourite. I didn’t want it to affect the band so I let go. Got people to work, the only thing I wanted from him is what he apparently loved and that was touring.”

“The Alec scenario? Grin and bear it?”

Jon’s eyes widened. “No, why? Alec couldn’t perform at all. Not that he was ever the best bassist out there but it got so bad that he was blowing it even on live gigs. He had broken his collar bone so he was on strong meds and he was doing drugs and…oh, fuck.”

Suddenly a sobering realization dawned on Jon that what made him fire Alec was the same thing that made him lose Richie. Tears welled up in his eyes. His voice cracked when he finally pulled himself together well enough to speak out.

“I should have never ever let him go and play with his fucking broken arm. I admired his strength but now I know it was the biggest mistake we’ve ever made. Both of us. Since then it went into a downward spiral. Everything just fucked up.”

Jon covered his face with his hands.

“You can’t save the world, Jon. Richie is a grown-up man and he makes decisions for himself. Even if they are self-destructive at times.”

“I pushed myself and others to the limit, too. I guess I’m as self-destructive as he is,” Jon said weakly.

“Why didn’t you seek help once you realized you couldn’t sort it out by yourselves?”

“I don’t know! The machine was rolling, we were caught up in the excitement of exploring our craft, in delivering the best shows ever. And then we got really close again… I thought we were past our darkest hour. It really worked! After he was charged with DUI and then was on probation for three years, everybody thought he managed to curb his demons. He didn’t. I told you I want my band to be like a mafia, like a gang. Nothing leaks out, right?”

“So you let him do whatever he pleased as long as he did come to the rehearsals and show up on stage?”

Jon shrugged. “Dude didn’t want to talk about it. It’s not that I was constantly yelling at him or bugging him to sit down and talk. He just didn’t see the problem. I got my own problems to cope. You see, after being in charge of a football team, I wanted to be involved in that again. I just needed money. I didn’t use the band, it’s just it was now or never. I saw the opportunity and thought I’d stand a chance. When I lost the bid… it was one of the most humbling experiences in my life. But if you asked me today if I wanted to try again, then hell yes, I’d go for it! I just know there’s no way I’ll make enough money for it. Some dreams remain dreams. Fuck that!”

“What about the other guys?”

“You mean Dave and Tico?”

Bruce nodded.

“Well, they’re not the bitchy divas. One is enough!” Jon laughed. “I asked each of them and they all agreed. I knew Richie wanted to release his solo stuff. He told me too much bottled up in him and he wanted some relief. I always supported him so I said ‘Yeah, go ahead!’ and that was it.”

“You once told me that when you write a song, you just sit down and talk. Now you’re saying he didn’t want to open anymore. It’s strange since you say you’ve been always there for him. It all seems like he’s…”

“One ungrateful bastard?” Jon asked dryly. “No. I do think he just felt unhappy and trapped. I could feel that, even though I didn’t want to admit it even to myself. I’d lost him long before he actually left me. I mean, he left the band out there in Calgary. I tried to make him stay but I wouldn’t kiss his ass, you know? The band was more important. I gave it all my sweat and blood. I just couldn’t stop. Not now.”

“Did you talk at all?”

“We talked a bit but it was all forced. He got more credit than he actually did but since we had this agreement that he’d get on the tour earlier, I let him spend his time on his own. Whatever makes him happy, right? I kept telling myself it’d pass once the tour started. It’d always worked so I had no doubts we’d pull it off once again.”

“There's a lot of bad blood there, isn’t it?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say so? We still communicated. Even now there’s no malice. Everybody moved on.”

Jon was sure he saw a glimpse of a smile on Bruce’s face. It somehow made him angry.

“Oh, you find it funny? I never restricted anyone’s freedom, no matter what the bastard says to the press now. He wanted to fucking jam on stage? We’re not a little band playing bars and we’re not twenty anymore. Ever heard of evolving? Can you imagine me wearing long hair and jumping on stage while singing about losing your virginity in the backseat? It’d make me look like a fucking creep!”

Bruce laughed but then got serious again. “Some of your peers still do. But no, I’ve never found it funny. It’s just try to calm down and think wider than that. I don’t think any of your bandmates wants to act outdated or even mock themselves. We’ve already talked about that, do you remember it, Jon?”

Jon put his finger on his mouth and nodded. Bruce noticed the contradiction in his body language and was absolutely convinced Jon didn’t tell him everything. He was in this angry self-defense mode and it was more than obvious he didn’t come to terms with the new reality.

“You know what? I think I need something stronger than coffee. Do you have Jack on the house?”

The dark-haired man smiled, stood up and approached his cocktail cabinet. He took out a bottle of fine whisky, poured the caramel tipple into the glasses and put them on the table. Jon unceremoniously grabbed his and raised it.

“For the lovely meeting,” he said sarcastically and took a big gulp.

“For pulling out your wisdom teeth,” Bruce joked as he downed his drink.

“Now listen. Our relationship fucked up long time ago. It’s not about those cheap sluts around him, desperate for fame and money because a loaded guy showers them with gifts. It’s not even about the band or solo careers. We both had stable private lives, wives and kids but also this close relationship that felt so natural, like a second nature to us. Can’t say whether it was an undergoing rivalry or something else but ultimately we always sort of looked up to each other and worked out what makes each other tick, you know? We were like fire and gasoline, complimented and balanced each other. It was so fucking beautiful and so rare and we both knew that! It’s not only about making songs together, it was always so much more. Right from the beginning when he saw me in the club a few times and then almost threw himself at me just to be in the band. That was insane but then I discovered I was looking for a guy like him. We surely had lots of fun together… And then, while my family life was blossoming, his own was decaying away. I couldn’t replace that hole in his heart, no matter what I did for him. Never liked Heather much nor most of his girlfriends. I was lucky enough to find Dot so early in my life. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

Jon sighed and then took another gulp of whisky.

“You want some more?”

“Yeah, pour another one. Thanks.”

“How close were you?”

Jon blinked. He surely didn’t expect this question and it was a bit overwhelming at first. Now he felt the little buzz on his head and suddenly wanted to speak his mind in its full twisted glory.

“You mean Rich and me? Closer than one would think. If there were any lines, we crossed them all. They were blurry anyway. It’s all about social constructs and cultural or religious expectations. Never cared for them anyway.”

“So you’re saying you…?”

“Yes, we did. We fucking did! Hundreds of times! Dot is my wife but I sometimes think he is the only person I loved so madly. I’d never thought I’d love another guy the way a man loves a woman. But I never regretted that night at his house when I crawled into his bed and finally kissed him. Then, it was just a fucking rollercoaster. We lived for the night time. I could barely contain myself on stage when the adrenaline was buzzing in my veins. I somehow wanted to come out in front of all those people. But it will be our secret we’ll take into our grave. Nobody said love was easy and certainly nobody said being forced into loving in secrecy would be so overwhelming, so fucking painful!”

Bruce looked at him and smiled softly. Jon’s face was contorted with pain, his eyes shining with unshed angry tears.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. I actually suspected there was so much more going on between the two of you but you never became so explicit. It’s true you can’t choose who you fall in love with. I know…,” he hesitated.

“No, you don’t. Nobody knows until they experience it firsthand. We didn’t understand it ourselves. Hell, neither him nor I are gay but we fell for each other so hard. The first day he came over to my house and we started writing… it was magic, man. When he left, I couldn’t sleep afterwards. We met the next day. When he told me he couldn’t catch any sleep because he wanted to come and write some more, I knew what he meant. We both were so afraid of it for so long, though. I must say the booze helped us more than a little,” Jon laughed to himself. “Too much fucking pain but we still went for it. Again and again. And then we fucked up everything that we could. Now what’s left? The little fucker just fled and we haven’t talked in two years. I haven’t touched my guitar since the tour ended. I lied when I told you I’m OK with that. I’m fucking mad, hurt and confused. He won’t call me but I won’t call him, either. Just forget it! He owes me some apology first, don’t you think?”

“After all he’s put you through, do you still want him back in the band?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’d be hard-pressed. He actually texted me one day and asked whether he could play a gig. I just texted him back that he must have been kidding me. You just don’t walk out on your mates and come back like nothing happened! And the fucking media taking sides and piling us against each other. We’ve been through it before but not on such a huge scale. Remember the Edge thing? It was blown out of proportions so fucking much I wanted to burn everything down. Fucking liars!”

“So it’s official he’s not coming back?”

“We haven’t texted about that, yet,” Jon let out a dry laugh. “Besides, he met this Australian guitarist, Orianthi or whatever her name is, and seems pretty content with her. God bless! And speaking about God… Thank God Phil X stepped in and did the job! If Richie keeps being the stubborn ass he is now, then I’ll make the motherfucker happy. See? I’m this fucking genie making wishes come true. Tah-dah!”

Bruce frowned. “So you’re ready to move forward? Once you’ve said it out loud?”

Jon stared ahead and worked his jaw, his thoughts surely burning at his mind from the inside. Finally, he spoke through gritted teeth.

“I miss the fucker more than I’d admit to anyone. It was real, one way or another. You just don’t throw away the best part of your life, no matter how badly the romance ended, right? I’d love to see him and punch him squarely in his fucking face. It’d just bring me some relief, even if for a split second. And then, I don’t know.”

“So why don’t you make it happen? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything!” Jon yelled, but having realized that, he cleared his throat, a little blush tainting his cheeks. “It’s not up to me to look for him and try to make up. It was him who ran away so he should pluck up the little courage that’s left in him and at least, call me first. We’re sending fucking text messages like fourteen-year-old schoolgirls but hey, it’s the way of communication that suits him best. He’s a fucking coward, always been like that! You had to corner him and lock the doors if you wanted to have any serious talk with him. Oh, or interview him on the boat, just fucking brilliant!”

“Jon?”

“What?”

“Do you think it’s only and solely Richie at fault? You do sound hurt and betrayed.”

“Because I am! I’m starting to think all those bad relationships and rehab stints were his little attempts to avoid being honest with me. I believe he wanted out long before he actually did. What makes me really pissed off is that he wasn’t honest with me. He was nodding his fucking head in agreement but was working out other plans in his little head. I wish I could have read his mind. It’d have at least saved me the whole drama in front of millions, you know?”

Bruce watched him, his lids half-closed, and smiled. “You wouldn’t have fired him first, would you?”

Jon put his hands on the table and clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles went white.

“We were a gang. We always sorted things out by ourselves. We needed the shrink just once and it worked. Now I’m here, somehow foolishly hoping you could help me but no. Nobody can help me. It’s still fucking hurts in so many ways. It’d be easier if it was the Alec’s scenario. Or at least, if Richie just told me things that would burn all the bridges. But no, he just didn’t show up. He just disappeared. All his gear was left behind. His stuff at my house. I haven’t walked in since. I can’t bring myself to go to the Shoe Inn, either. Making music feels like torture now, too many bittersweet memories. I’ve never had good night sleep but now I’m a walking insomniac. Maybe it’s even better because man, my dreams are so bad! Fucking nightmares! I wish I could write so I’d just put a few things on the paper and off my chest. But you won’t see me break down. I won’t give him or nobody else that satisfaction.”

Jon laughed awkwardly, more to himself that at Bruce. The psychotherapist extended his hand and put it over Jon’s fist.

“Nobody requires you to do so. You’re much stronger than you think. That Superman tattoo wasn’t a random choice, you’re truly a strong and beautiful person. I’m glad you came to me and I wish I could have an answer. But the answer is there and it’s in your heart. Give yourself some time. Disbelief, anger, disappointment and longing. Those things make us human. Don’t fight them, try to embrace them. One day you’ll sit down, write them down and put them in a song. Making art is freeing and cathartic. You’ve been through it before and you’ll make it now. You’re not alone and you’re certainly not at a dead end. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll figure it out. By yourselves.”

Jon smiled at his friend. He relaxed his other hand and squeezed Bruce’s hand with his.

“And you know what? You just might be right. Nobody can fix the broken but us. And why wait any longer? Let’s give the motherfucker a little heart attack. And now excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

Jon stood up and Bruce followed. They shook their hands.

“Thank you my friend. I’m sorry I was acting so angry and I know I was way too loud and obnoxious. Now you have to charge me twice as much.”

“Drinks on the house, though.” 

“Thanks, man. See you in the next lifetime.”

They both laughed.

***

A few days later Bruce got a text message. He read it and furrowed his eyebrows.

_So it’s official. He’s not coming back. We’re back to the studio. I guess my next lifetime has just started and there’s life after death. Thank you my friend. The way forward is the only way._

He started typing but after a while he deleted everything. Finally, he wrote a few words and pressed the ‘send’ button. 

_Good things come to those who wait and even better to those who don’t. Never regret what made you happy._

There was no reply but Bruce smiled to himself. 

_Not all those who wander are lost. The end is just a new beginning._


End file.
